Sherlock VS The Ripper: A Study In Sanity
by TheDarkDoctorWatson
Summary: Sherlock faces his deadliest, and most exciting, case yet. A serial killer has taken up the mantel of Jack the Ripper. While forensic technology still can't determine who the Ripper is, Sherlock is hot on his trail, and in a stroke of brilliance he personally visits the oldest cold case in the world – the case of the original Ripper.
1. The Game Begins

**Chapter One – The Game Begins**

* * *

Doctor John Watson walked into the upstairs apartment at 221b, Baker Street in the heart of London. As usual Sherlock knew exactly who it was as they walked up the stairs.

"John, welcome back, did you get my coffee?" Sherlock asked without looking up from the "web" he was creating out of red yarn, thumb pins, news articles, police file clippings and a large map of London that covered the entire wall where the couch had been and part of the floor and ceiling.

"Yes I did." Watson replied as he rested his metallic cane (which he didn't really need) against a chair and placed the cup carrier in his left hand on the desk.

The three to-go cups contained different tastes for three different people: the first was Sherlock's coffee with two sugars, two creams and an espresso shot; the second was Watson's straight black coffee and the last was Mrs. Hudson's green tea with three sugars and small squeeze of lemon.

"Here you are Sherlock." Watson said as he set the cup on the desk where Sherlock could reach it, "And here you are Mrs. Hudson."

"Oh, thank you dear, you shouldn't have." Mrs. Hudson said as she came in the room, accepted the cup and took a sip, "Oh, you remembered the squeeze of lemon."

"Yes I did." Watson said with a smile as he took a sip of his coffee, "So what exactly is this Sherlock?"

"Moriarty." Sherlock replied as he continued to create the web, "Whoever this man is, he has been leaving quite the trail of dead ends and misinformation in his wake. No single man, or company for that matter, on earth has this many dead ends behind them."

"How many weeks of newspapers have you been combing through?" Watson asked as he picked up a cut up newspaper off of the floor.

"Not just weeks, years." Sherlock replied as he added another strand of yarn and a news clipping to a restaurant in the northern part of the city, "This man has been very busy for a very long time."

"Wow." Watson said as he set the paper back down on the floor, "It would seem he was a proper advantage on you."

"He must've known I would find his trail soon, but he's been covering himself for years, why?" Sherlock asked as he stepped back from his work to examine it.

"I'm not sure," Watson said as he picked up what was left of this morning's paper off the windowsill, "Sherlock, are we expecting Lestrade today?"

"Lestrade?" Sherlock asked as put the last pin and news article on the map then walked over to the window, "There's been a murder, and it's very bad. We need to get ready now so we can simply leave when he gets up here."

Sherlock and Watson were already out the door before Lestrade could even knock.

"Gentlemen, this is one of our bloodiest scenes to date, you'll want to prepare yourselves." Lestrade said as he got back into the police car and drove off with Sherlock riding shotgun and Watson in the back.

* * *

The car pulled up to the scene and Sherlock stepped out, he could already smell blood coming from the alleyway. As Sherlock walked into the alleyway, he could feel Watson close behind him with Lestrade in loose following position. Sherlock turned the corner around a dumpster and stopped. The walls of the alleyway looked like they had been power-washed with blood; the body was lying in a very sexual manner, the face and neck had been severely mutilated almost to the bone to make the victim unrecognizable, the abdomen had been sliced open and it looked like several organs were missing. The body had been a woman at one time, now it was just a brutally murdered corpse.

"What time? Who found her?" Sherlock asked both Watson and Lestrade as he slipped on crime scene shoe covers and latex gloves and began to gingerly walk around the body.

"Two teenagers found her in the alleyway and immediately called it in; they're in shock over in the ambulance." Lestrade said.

"Judging by the growth of maggots on the flesh of her wrist," Watson said after he had donned a crime scene sterile suit and knelt down next to the body, "I'd say about 12 to 18 hours."

"How did she actually die?" Sherlock asked.

"There's a deep slash across the throat, severing the main arteries." Watson said, "The killer most likely slit her throat, then mutilated her face and body; judging by the precision of organ removal, maybe a doctor or some kind of surgeon skill."

"Could this be Moriarty?" Lestrade asked, trying not to vomit.

"No, Moriarty has no surgical skill and anyone who is still sane would rather die before doing something this…heinous." Sherlock said as he squatted next to what use to be the face.

No skin was left, just bone and muscle. The eyeballs were missing; empty skull sockets stared back at Sherlock as he almost crawled around the head to get an idea of what she may have looked like.

"I need a sketch pad and pencil." Sherlock ordered holding his right hand out.

Lestrade looked to his officers and nodded before an officer ran from the end of the alleyway and handed Sherlock the pad and pencil. Sherlock flipped to a blank page and immediately began sketching. The woman had a sharp but small nose, thin lips that had a small "m" in the middle, wide rounded eyes, rounded ears, thin eyebrows, prominent cheek bones, a small forehead and thin wavy brunette hair that came to her shoulder blades.

"Make copies; find out who she is immediately." Sherlock said as he handed the pad and pencil to Lestrade.

Lestrade ran the pad back to the police cars and started barking at some of the officers. Sherlock squatted next to the woman, noticing something glint next to her neck. He lightly moved the neck and quickly pulled on the thin chain of the necklace the woman had been wearing. The chain snapped, and Sherlock found himself holding a thin gold chain with a heart shaped locket on the end. He opened the locket and found two pictures; one was the woman and her husband on their wedding day, the other was the woman holding a newborn baby while she lay in a hospital bed. His sketch had been identical to the pictures, except for a small birthmark on her cheek.

"She was a mother and a wife." Sherlock said as he closed the locket.

"How do you know?" Watson asked.

"The wedding ring is still on her finger, it wasn't stolen, and neither was this locket. This locket contains pictures of her on her wedding day and her on the day her child was born." Sherlock replied as he stood up.

"We can find out who she is by searching these people." Watson said as he looked in the locket before slipping it into an evidence bag.

"Exactly." Sherlock said as he took the evidence bag, cleared it with Lestrade, then started walking back to the flat.

In the building across from the entrance to the alleyway, a man stood in an empty flat and angled his camera out the window. He snapped as many pictures as he could of Sherlock and Watson in the few seconds he had. He then uploaded the pictures to a laptop, printed them out and added them to his own web on the wall. This web showed everywhere Sherlock had been, everything that Sherlock was capable of and everything Sherlock had left in his wake.

The man smiled, put on a leather apron that had been hanging on a hook nearby and walked into the next room. As the door opened, a woman inside the room screamed. Then the door shut again, the woman still screaming. In seconds, her scream was silenced.

* * *

END CHAPTER ONE


	2. I Have Returned

**Chapter Two – I Have Returned**

* * *

Sherlock sat on the bench, his eyes closed, listening to everything around him. He held a pocket watch in his right hand, a gift from his late father, and focused on the ticking of the hands. Then he let in all the other noise of London's streets around him; feet walking, tires crunching gravel, children laughing, birds chirping and taking flight, conversations in different voices and different accents because of tourist season. Sherlock opened his eyes and focused when he heard Watson's limp and aluminum cane coming his way.

"Here you go." Watson said, handing Sherlock a soft pretzel in butcher paper with a honey mustard packet.

"Honey mustard? You know I always eat pretzels plainly or at the most with ketchup." Sherlock said flatly.

"I thought you might like to try something different." Watson said as he sat next to Sherlock.

Sherlock looked at the honey mustard and pretzel together analytically; he then opened the honey mustard cup, broke off a piece of pretzel, dipped it in and tried it.

"That's actually not bad." Sherlock said through the pretzel in his mouth.

Before Watson could say anything, everyone heard a scream a few streets over. Sherlock closed the dipping cup, wrapped up the pretzel, launched himself over the bench and ran as fast as he could. Watson was right behind him, having picked up his cane and running at the same pace.

Sherlock got to the park first. Under a tree, a woman stood shaking and a few feet away from her was another bloody massacre, much like the first from two days ago.

"Call Lestrade." Sherlock said to Watson as he put the pretzel and dipping cup into a sandwich sized plastic bag he had in his pocket.

Sherlock then walked over and looked at the shaking woman. She was already in shock, not focusing on anything other than the body. Sherlock took off his jacket and wrapped it around her and had her sit on a near by park bench. He then turned around and walked as close as he could to the body without disturbing the scene.

After hanging up, Watson walked over to Sherlock and the body. It was another woman, or it had been, but the mutilation and disembowelment were worse than before.

Most of her face was gone and hack marks could be seen on the bits of skull that showed through. From her abdomen to her chest had been opened; her digestive organs were missing, along with her liver, kidneys, lungs and heart. She was only wearing a denim jacket and a pair of black skinny jeans. Her thin, short blonde hair was held back in a ponytail holder.

As Watson and Sherlock both examined the body, Watson noticed some bruising around her ankles and on the heels of her bare feet. Watson put on a pair of latex gloves he had with him and gingerly lifted her feet individually.

"Sherlock, she was wearing tight high-heals at one point. Most likely when she was abducted." Watson said as he lightly set the feet back down.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but she has short blonde hair right?" Sherlock asked as he put on his own pair of latex gloves.

"Fairly certain." Watson said as he looked at Sherlock and pointed to the woman's head.

"Then tell me how a mid-length, ginger red hair landed on her jacket." Sherlock said as he held up the single hair he just plucked off the jacket.

As Sherlock and Watson kept lightly working with the crime scene, Lestrade and his men pulled up to the edge of the park and made their way to the two men.

"Need any help tampering with evidence?" Lestrade asked.

"We have only done minimal work." Sherlock said as he showed off his latex gloves.

"Do you need anything then? Coffee, pastries, forensics kit?" Lestrade asked sarcastically.

"Small evidence bag, if you please." Sherlock replied holding out his hand.

Lestrade looked behind him and an officer produced the small bag and gave it to Sherlock. Sherlock then placed the red hair in the bag and handed it back to the officer.

"Find out who this belongs to." Sherlock said before he walked back to the scene with Lestrade in tow.

"Do you need the sketch pad again?" Lestrade asked as they reached the scene.

"Not this time, her wallet was in her jacket." Watson said as he produced the woman's wallet from her jacket pocket.

"Could be someone else's wallet." Lestrade suggested.

"Highly unlikely. People who live in a city with a high concentration of tourists tend to keep their wallets and other valuables in any pocket other than back pockets. Most of the time it's closer to their reach and body so they can feel it if it's being taken. The best place is in one's shirt or jacket pocket. Plus, she's wearing her hair much the same and the exact same denim jacket in her driver's license photo." Sherlock said as he opened the wallet and handed it to Lestrade.

"Abigale Bakerson, she was just about to turn thirty. Sherlock, she was an organ donor." Lestrade said putting the wallet in an evidence bag and handing it back to Sherlock.

"Yes I saw. Watson, look at these cutting patterns and look at the preciseness of the now empty spaces inside." Sherlock said lightly moving the skin around the gaping hole in the corpse.

"It's the same precision and skill as the first body. Sherlock, what's that?" Watson asked pointing to something white peeking out from between the woman's back and her jacket.

Sherlock pulled some tweezers out of his crime-scene kit, which he recently started taking everywhere, and gingerly moved the item out from under the woman. It was a folded piece of paper with Sherlock's name written on it. Sherlock unfolded the paper and was greeted with a sloppily written, but readable, note. He began reading the note aloud.

" _Mr. Holmes,  
_ _Sorry I couldn't personally meet ya'. Ya' know how it is when ya'do things others frown on. I thought I'd introduce me-self with this girl. I'm Jack the Ripper, and I've returned to London. I've stepped up me game since last time, not just whores anymore and I'm not limitin' me-self to Whitechapel. Pick up the pace Mr. Holmes, I'm waitin' on you.  
_ _Signed, Jack/Leather Apron/The Ripper/Catch Me When You Can  
_ _PS: You'll find this lovely girl's family in the apartment complex in Mayfair._ "

Sherlock looked up to the mortified faces of Watson and Lestrade. He then folded the note and handed it to Lestrade who put it in an evidence bag and walked back to the car.

"Why are you both so horrified?" Sherlock asked as he took off the gloves and started walking back to Baker Street.

"I'm hoping you know the story of Jack the Ripper." Watson said as he also took off his gloves and followed Sherlock.

"Of course I do, it's one of London's oldest and coldest cases. You don't actually believe this is the original Ripper returned do you?" Sherlock asked as the pair kept walking.

"Well, of course not, the original man is dead by now. But it's still horrifying, the surgical skill is the same as the original case and so is the savagery of the mutilations." Watson replied.

"Watson, use your brain. This is a fake, a wannabe, a headline chaser. While we do have to worry about a serial killer, we do not have to worry about a hundred-plus year old serial killer on the streets of London. This man is simply using and wanting a title." Sherlock said after stopping on a street corner.

"But it's still horrifying, the original was never caught, what if we don't catch this one?" Watson asked.

Sherlock turned on Watson so fast, he could've gotten whiplash.

"Bite. Your. Tongue." Sherlock said before resuming his walk and crossing the street.

Watson stayed behind the crosswalk as traffic crossed, letting himself cool down and remembering that Sherlock still had a lot of growing to do when it came to people's emotions. As the light changed, Watson made his way across the street. He felt someone watching him, but he didn't dare stop since the light was close to changing again. After he had gotten across the street, Watson looked where he had been staring and then in the surrounding area; nothing, except the swift moving of curtains in an apartment building on the other side of the park.

* * *

In the empty flat, the man in the leather apron smiled as he moved the curtain back to where it was. They knew about him now, and if another body dropped, the rest of the city would too.

The man walked to the mirror and combed his fingers downward through his ginger hair. He scratched at his scruffy, graying beard and readjusted his thin glasses. He then put on a pair of elbow length leather gloves and walked into the next room.

A woman lay chained to the table in the center of the room. Along the walls were all kinds of knives, hammers, axes, a chainsaw, a large pair of hedge clippers and a full surgeon's kit.

The man walked to the table while the woman on the table struggled and screamed into the gag around her lower face. She had thick, dyed red hair that came to her mid-back that was currently held in a bun on top of her head. Her face was streaked with tears that made her makeup run. She was wearing a red windbreaker, a green _Spongebob_ shirt, a pair of gray sweatpants and nothing on her feet. She had been taking out the trash on Tuesday night, and now she was here on Saturday. She had been fed and taken care of, but now was the moment when she must be used for her intended purpose.

The man picked a small pocket knife off the wall.

"I'm truly sorry Madame, you are exquisitely beautiful, but your time is up." The man said before quickly slicing the knife all the way across her throat severing her arteries.

The woman arched on the table, then lay back trying to breathe. The man took the gag off and in her last act, the woman spit a cough of blood at him, then she died. The man wiped the blood off with a nearby wet towel, wiped off the knife and replaced it on the wall, then he took a larger knife and began his work on the woman.

* * *

END CHAPTER TWO


	3. The New Angle

**Chapter Three: The New Angle**

* * *

Watson sat at the office desk, typing on the keyboard of his laptop updating Sherlock's website with solved cases that were no longer classified. As Watson continued to type, his phone started to ring. Watson picked up the phone before it vibrated off the desk and answered the caller.

"Hello." Watson said into the phone.

" _Hello Dr. Watson, I trust you're well today._ " The voice of Sherlock's annoying, overbearing and (sadly) government related brother, Mycroft, came through the speaker.

"I _was_ doing well. What random task do you want me to do this week?" Watson asked as he leaned back in his chair.

" _I just wanted to check in on a good friend of mine, see how you were doing after Mary took off for Bolivia_." Mycroft responded.

"I'm fine, I promise. I understand that due to how close she is to the government, she will take off at a moment's notice." Watson replied.

" _You may not be fine for long. I overheard this morning that they've lost her location._ " Mycroft said.

Watson didn't say anything and just let the last sentence process in his mind.

"Well where is she? Have they tried anything to locate her?" Watson started asking.

" _They've tried everything; she's just fallen off the map. They said her last message said something about angels. I'm sorry John._ " Mycroft said.

Watson held his head in his free hand.

"Alright, thank you for phoning. Let me know as soon as you've found her." Watson said before hanging up and rubbing his eyes then holding his head in both hands.

Sherlock walked in at a brisk pace, then stopped when he saw Watson slumped over trying not to cry. Sherlock walked into the kitchen, pulled a bottle of beer from the fridge, walked back into the work room and placed the beer on the desk next to Watson. Watson lifted his head, looked at the bottle, then looked at Sherlock.

"Social convention is to offer someone who's upset a hot beverage. However, I personally don't have time or care to work with the stove to make tea so I figured a beer would suffice. However, I'm limiting you to one; we are still working on a case after all."

Watson chuckled, accepted the beer, opened the bottle and took a swig.

"Not bad beer." Watson said before another swig.

"Shouldn't be, it was a gift from Lestrade for coming back from the dead." Sherlock said as he pulled down the retractable map of London he started yesterday to help with the modern Ripper case.

"Well don't you want it then?" Watson asked as he stood up and walked over to the map.

"I've never been one for alcohol, but I figured I would need it at some point. Once again, I was right." Sherlock said with a smirk.

"Right then; what's all this?" Watson said, pulling himself together, crossing his arms and looking at the map.

"I've pin-pointed the two bodies we found and I'm beginning a hand drawn web that should triangulate where the killer is. I've also listed the details of the murders and I've begun to assemble a psychological profile of the killer." Sherlock says holding his hands behind him.

"What's all this over here?" Watson asked pointing to the Whitechapel area.

"Each pin and list of details over there is the original Ripper's murders. I'm comparing the original Ripper to the new one that's sprung up. At some point, the modern Ripper will make a mistake and I'll catch him there." Sherlock said.

"Impressive. Have you personally been to the Ripper museum or any of the original crime scenes?" Watson asked.

"I was thinking about going later today actually. Would you care to join me?" Sherlock asked.

"Sure, why not?" Watson asked as he went back to updating Sherlock's website.

Sherlock looked over at Watson's aluminum cane. He had never truly needed it; it was mostly for show or as a precaution. Recently, Watson had personally remade the cane by hand to be more weaponized if needed; the handle twisted to the right a perfect 70 degrees and then slid out with a steel blade that was thick enough to take on any machete or knife but thin enough to slide easily into the aluminum scabbard.

Sherlock looked over at the Ripper map and began to go over all the information he had and began to sort it all out with his mind palace technique. Much like the canonical five from the original Ripper, the two new victims had their throats slit across the arteries and this was the fatal wound. Like the original Ripper, the victims' bodies were then sexually assaulted, then the abdomen was sliced open and disemboweled and the face was then mutilated in some way. Due to the nature of the crimes of the Original and the letters the Original used, that man's psychological profile shaped up to be a doctor or other man of surgical skill with a need for attention most likely due to low self-esteem, brutal parenting as a child and possible poverty during the Irish immigration because of the Potato Famine.

Sherlock tried to compare the information of Modern Ripper with the Original, but there just wasn't enough data yet. Then it hit him, he still hadn't made his visit to Lestrade for his allotted time with the evidence and bodies.

"Watson, will you come along with me? I just remembered that I still haven't used my allotted time with evidence and the collected bodies for today." Sherlock said as he grabbed his black trench coat and his (becoming usual) deerstalker hat.

"Sure." Watson said as he entered in the website updates, closed the laptop, grabbed his jacket and cane and followed Sherlock out the door.

* * *

At the morgue, Sherlock had his face level with the first victim's skull. After the drawing was published to the public, she had been found; she was Rose Steelsmith. She had a boyfriend and parents, but no family otherwise. They had already seen her; they were going to cremate her.

Sherlock moved his latex covered hands along the skin of the collar bone.

"The collar bone is not broken, but there is bruising towards the neck. Watson, did you notice the bruising around the wrists and ankles?" Sherlock asked as he threw off the blanket that covered the victim.

"Yes I did, looks like leather restraints of some kind." Watson said as picked up the right wrist in his own latex-gloved hands.

"What do you make of the incision itself in the throat, and what of the bruising on the outer skin around the ribs?" Sherlock asked running his finger across that area under the woman's chest.

"This incision is pristine, the work of a true surgeon. The bruising probably occurred during her abduction, unless she was restrained around the abdomen before she died." Watson said.

"Look at the other victim. She has the same bruising pattern in the exact same places, except for extra bruising in her private areas. Also do we truly know if they are being abducted?" Sherlock asked after he had removed the blanket of the second victim.

"No, we assume so because of the bruising where restraints would be. You don't exactly find people randomly restrained in alleyways or in the street." Watson said.

"Careful with assumptions, Watson; if you assume too much, you commit the capital offense of twisting facts to suit theories instead of the other way around. However, in this case you're correct. The forensics lab found residue from leather straps on Miss Rose's left ankle. The bruising in Miss Abigale's private regions indicates fierce sexual assault before the body's systems had completely shut down. The disemboweling of the first victim took her digestive organs and kidneys. The disemboweling of the second victim took her kidneys, heart, liver and lungs but left the digestive organs. Remembering what you can between our Ripper and the Original, what is the difference?" Sherlock asked.

"The Original didn't restrain or even abduct his victims. He simply killed them in the alleys he met them in, then disemboweled and mutilated them there." Watson replied.

"Exactly; our Ripper is unsure of himself, so he abducts the girls to make sure they don't run off on him." Sherlock said as he took off his gloves and walked out of the morgue.

* * *

In the not so abandoned apartment building, the ginger haired man was combing over a relatively new website that he had found. The website was clean, professional and inviting with the site's name, "The Science Of Deduction," across the top as a banner.

As the man scrolled down, he noticed a live update come in. He clicked on the update and began reading.

" _New/Current Case – Update;_

 _1_ _st_ _victim: female, disemboweled, mutilated, use to be in the_ London Times _office._

 _2_ _nd_ _victim: female, disemboweled (worse than first), mutilated (worse than first), use to be school teacher._

 _Possible clue: ginger hair found, restraints used. Psychological report coming soon._ "

The ginger haired man shut off his tablet computer. He went into the restraining room which was occupied with his third project. He removed her restraints, replaced her windbreaker and pants but nothing else, then he put her in a body bag and placed her in the oversized freezer across the hall. He then went back into the restraining room, grabbed a gas mask off the wall, grabbed a head-sized bag, some rope and a hand held tazer.

" _They're too close, much too close. A new project must be added; this one ought to be male I think._ " The man thought as he walked down the stairs of the building, which he had personally purchased as a soundproof laboratory for his projects.

The man placed the mask on his head, put the bag, rope and stun gun in his cargo pants pockets. He replaced his white lab coat with a black trench coat and exited the building out a ground level garage which opened into the metro tunnels. He carefully made his way along the tunnel until he was in the street as the sun set.

" _Let's go for a couple's headline, shall we?_ " The man thought as he followed a couple holding hands down an alleyway.

* * *

END CHAPTER 3


	4. The One That Got Away

**Chapter Four: The One That Got Away**

* * *

Sherlock and Watson walked down the streets of London, feeling the metropolis move around them. The pair were on their way to the Jack the Ripper museum in the East End of London.

"I've been here before, but it never hurts to refresh your memory of the details." Sherlock said to Watson as the two walked in the front door.

The first display included different types of knives from the time period and it showed statistics of poverty and cheap work at the time compared to the population of the East End, specifically in Whitechapel.

The next five displays were replicas of the style of clothing the canonical five women that the Ripper murdered were found in; each display also had a picture of the women before they had been murdered and mutilated.

The next displays were maps, pictures, police reports and various paperwork related to the Ripper, including the four letters apparently from the Ripper.

The final display was a replica of what the Ripper most likely wore when he murdered the women, with a leather apron hanging nearby.

"Seeing anything you missed the first time?" Watson asked as they continued to pass other displays relating to the Ripper and his crimes.

"Nothing, except this ghastly carpet." Sherlock said with a smirk.

"Sherlock, this display is missing a gas mask." Watson said pointing to a display of period-type environment protection.

"Is there a sign saying it's being cleaned?" Sherlock asked as he looked at the display from every angle he could.

"Nothing." Watson said.

"Can I help you, gentlemen?" A chipper, brunette woman in a museum uniform asked.

"Where is the missing gas mask?" Sherlock asked quickly.

"What missing mask?" The woman asked before seeing the display case.

"Alert security immediately, Watson with me." Sherlock said the as the two men raced outside.

Sherlock pulled out his new iPhone 6 and called Lestrade.

"Lestrade, Watson and I just visited the Ripper museum, one of the era-style gas masks is missing." Sherlock said into the phone as he and Watson walked quickly down the street towards the New Scotland Yard building.

" _Your timing is impeccable Sherlock, another girl's body was found this morning. We're at the scene now, one street over from Scotland Yard. I actually see you right now._ " Lestrade's voice came through the phone.

Sherlock looked around, then saw Lestrade's head peeking over the crowd. Sherlock put his phone away and he and Watson ran over to Lestrade's crime scene. It looked like the body had exploded, coating the sidewalk around it in blood. The disembowelment was about the same as the second body, as well as the mutilation. She had dyed red hair, she wore a red windbreaker and gray sweatpants.

"Any idea who she was?" Sherlock asked as he put on latex gloves.

"None, the body was spotless of forensic evidence. The blood on the ground is hers, we did a preliminary test and it's definitely hers. She's missing digestive organs, kidneys, lungs, heart, liver and spleen." Lestrade said, keeping his back to the scene.

"Something wrong. Inspector?" Watson asked from his crouching position next to the body.

"Lestrade has never been a fan of incredible amounts of gore. Granted, he can accept just about any crime scene, but he had to do a research project on the original Ripper at a young age for grade school. After seeing the pictures of those heinous crimes, Lestrade has been wary of large amounts of blood and gore to the point of nausea." Sherlock answered for the inspector.

Watson went back to his work at the scene. He lifted the girl's right arm and noticed something peeking out from under the windbreaker's sleeve. He rolled the sleeve down and was met with a familiar scabbed up bump.

"Sherlock, look at this." Watson said holding the arm so Sherlock could see.

Sherlock lifted his head and looked at the arm. The girl had a pint of blood drained right before her death.

"Lestrade, I need another look at the bodies in the morgue. Also, I found another ginger hair on this girl, it was in her jacket pocket." Sherlock said holding out the hair.

"I'll get someone to take you over and I'll get this hair to the lab." Lestrade said, finally turning around with an evidence bag in hand and trying not to look right at the crime scene.

Sherlock then stood up, took off his gloves and started walking to the car Lestrade had assigned to take Sherlock and Watson to the morgue at St. Bartholomew's.

"What are you thinking Watson?" Sherlock asked as the two got in the car.

"They have their blood drained before death so it can spread across the crime scene to look like they're murdered there." Watson said the car pulled away from the scene and started navigating traffic.

"Exactly." Sherlock said before looking out the window as the city went by.

* * *

At the morgue, Sherlock examined all three bodies – the third had been brought in right behind Sherlock and Watson. Sherlock objectively examined all three women without covers, looking for unnoticed bruises, puncture marks, anything.

"Watson, the other two women had their blood drawn as well." Sherlock said as he helped Miss Hooper replace the blankets on the two first victims and prep the third victim for autopsy.

"And the last two had bruises in their…private regions, unlike the first which was in pristine condition aside from the wounds to her abdomen and chest." Watson said.

"You boys have been keeping me busy, and giving me nightmares at the same time. I haven't seen anything like this since I watched _Silence of the Lambs_." Molly said as she pulled on a sterile surgeon's suit.

"The killer is calling himself the Modern Jack the Ripper." Watson said.

"Seems to fit, but weren't his victims usually…prostitutes?" Molly asked as she placed a plexi-glass, protective mask on her head.

"Yes they were." Sherlock said with a smile at Molly's knowledge.

"Well then, this Ripper noticed a connection to these people like the first one did; all these women were organ donors." Molly said as she pulled on elbow length latex gloves and started her work.

* * *

The ginger haired man continued to remove the woman's organs. He already had her pint of blood cooling on the counter, and he had her clothes neatly folded in a stack nearby. The boyfriend was tied to a water pipe in the corner, crying the whole time.

"Don't worry my friend, you'll join her soon enough." The ginger haired man said as he finished his work with the woman, released her bindings, clothed her as best he could, placed her in a body bag and placed the bag in the walk-in freezer.

He came back in the room to find the man free, his ropes in tatters on the floor and the nearby window shattered outward.

"I WILL FIND YOU!" The ginger haired man yelled out the window in rage.

He went back into the main room, went online and began sending a message to the _Science of Deduction_ website.

" ' _Ello Mr. Holmes,  
_ _One of me projects has escaped. Don't think for a second that you can hide 'em from me.  
_ _Signed- Jack_ "

* * *

END CHAPTER FOUR


	5. The Phone Call

**Chapter Five: The Phone Call**

* * *

Sherlock and Watson were pacing the apartment, trying to figure out where someone would go after escaping a serial killer. Of course the police were an option, but this was far worse than the police could handle. Then Sherlock had an idea.

"He'd come to us. We are much more competent than London's finest, and most of the city knows that; which is why he's going to knock on the front door right…now." Sherlock said as he pointed to the window and there was a knock heard at the front door.

A few minutes later, Mrs. Hudson led a blonde haired and shaking man up the stairs to Sherlock's "office."

"Sherlock, this man is looking for you." Mrs. Hudson said quickly before leaving the room again.

"My name is George Withwright, I barely escaped with my life this morning." The man said as he held up bandaged hands.

"Sit down, you're in shock, tell us what happened." Watson said as he sat George down and put a blanket around his shoulders.

"There's this guy in lower Westminster, got a flat building all to himself, calls himself the Ripper. He took me and my girlfriend right off the street, gave us both a proper beating in a garage somewhere, then he took us to his personal flat, chained her to a table, tied me to the wall, he slit her throat, then he undressed her and then he…. Anyway, after that, he sliced her open, took out I don't know how many organs out of her, then let her loose, redressed her, put her in a body bag and left the room. When he left, I used the edge of the pipe I was tied against to cut my ropes, then I took some spare cloth, wrapped my hands and jumped out the two story window. I still cut my hands and a little bit of my leg. I'm alive, but I want to kill this man." George said, recounting as much as he could without crying.

Watson looked at Sherlock for answers. Sherlock sat with his hands folded against his chin and his eyes closed, registering and ordering the information in his mind.

"Anything else, George?" Sherlock asked as he kept his eyes closed.

"I saw the man, I could describe him to you." George said.

Sherlock got up like a rocket and walked to where he kept his sketch pad. He brought it back to the room, opened the pad and began to draw as George described the ginger haired man. His ginger hair was thin and slick with hair product but he combed it down to hang in his eyes. He had thick framed but thinly shaped glasses, his scruffy Van Dyke beard was graying. He had a roundish head, squared ear lobes, a sharp but small nose, large blue eyes, scruffy ginger eyebrows and his jowls sagged the slightest bit.

"Watson, you recognize him?" Sherlock asked after he had finished the photo-identical sketch.

"I've seen him somewhere online, but not ringing any bells for me. What about you?" Watson asked.

"I've seen and met him at several medical seminars. His name is Jackson Bartholomew Tinkerer, Doctor Professor. One of the most skilled surgeons in the world, one of the most reclusive men in the world." Sherlock recalled before seeing the web map of Moriarty.

Sherlock walked over to the map and flattened the newspaper clipping for a nearby university that showed Dr. Prof. Tinkerer with Moriarty standing behind a desk that had a prototype centrifuge that changed the speed of results at the university.

"Watson, you must also note that Tinkerer is good friends with Moriarty. Both of you come with me, we're heading to Scotland Yard." Sherlock said as he pulled the sketch out of the pad and grabbed his jacket.

* * *

It was 11:34 at night. Lestrade sipped from his seventh cup of coffee as he walked down the aisle between the cubicles on his floor of the Scotland Yard building.

"You can't be serious. One of the most well-known men of science and medicine moonlights as a serial killer?" Lestrade asked as he, Sherlock, Watson and George walked into Lestrade's office.

"Lestrade, you know me well enough to know that I joke about nothing. This man is dangerous; we need to take him down now." Sherlock said before Lestrade's phone rang.

"Hello, Detective Inspector Lestrade of New Scotland Yard." Lestrade said as he answered the phone on speaker.

" ' _Ello Inspector, this is Jack. I've dropped off anoth'a pretty face for ya'. You'll find her in Bexley, upper area. Have fun. Oh, I almost forgot; one of me projects seems to have run off. Don't worry about hidin' 'em, I'll find 'em soon enough._ " The voice of the Ripper came through the phone before the line went dead.

George fainted against Watson's shoulder with an audible clunk of a light bone one bone impact. Watson adjusted himself, laid George in an office chair then went to get some ice for his shoulder and George's forehead.

"We can keep him here under protective custody." Lestrade said as he opened a desk drawer, pulled out a Glock pistol, loaded the ammunition and put it in a chest holster under his jacket.

"He would be better off with Watson and I around the clock until this case has been closed." Sherlock replied as followed the phone's cable to the computer on Lestrade's desk.

"What are you doing?" Lestrade asked as Sherlock sat in Lestrade's chair and opened the computer.

"Triangulating the caller through caller ID and data encryption." Sherlock replied as he typed away on the keyboard.

The screen opened three black windows with white trim and white digital coding. The coding inside each window started moving upwards rapidly as Sherlock continued to type. A map of London opened up and a red square started zooming in on an area in Westminster as the coding continued to accelerate. The red square pinpointed a location in the lower are of Westminster and the coding stopped. Sherlock zoomed in on the map and saw…..a pay phone. A few yards from the pay phone was an apartment building that seemed to be abandoned, but the satellite image from two days ago showed a man in a black trench coat entering the lower areas of the building.

"He used a pay phone, but it was in lower Westminster. There's a flat building in the area with a man in a black trench coat entering the building." Sherlock said as Watson walked back in the room with an icepack held to his shoulder and placed an ice cold rag on George's forehead.

"Are we heading there now, then?" Watson asked.

"No, we need to make a small visit first." Sherlock said with a smile as he walked out of Lestrade's office with Watson in tow.

"Oh great, leave me with the unconscious guy." Lestrade said aloud.

* * *

Tinkerer stood in a park in Bexley under the cover of night. He placed the woman's body just so, then slit the blood bag and let it spray everywhere around her. He then cleaned and put away the knife, rolled up the body bag with the gas mask inside and put them back in his truck. He drove back into Westminster and stopped at a pay phone near his building. He got out of the truck and made a call.

" _Hello, Detective Inspector Lestrade of New Scotland Yard._ " The Inspector's voice rang out on speaker.

" 'Ello Inspector, this is Jack. I've dropped off anoth'a pretty face for ya'. You'll find her in Bexley, upper area. Have fun. Oh, I almost forgot; one of me projects seems to have run off. Don't worry about hidin' 'em, I'll find 'em soon enough." Tinkerer said in his best Irish accent before hanging up.

Tinkerer got back in the truck and drove into the garage under his building. He then took the bag and mask out of the truck bed and walked in the building. Being the landlord and not allowing anyone to rent had its benefits.

Tinkerer put the mask in its place, replaced his coat on the hook and looked out the large window overlooking most of London.

"Tomorrow, we go again." Tinkerer said aloud as he smiled.

* * *

END CHAPTER FIVE


	6. Time Travelling Mind Palace

**Chapter Six: Time Traveling Mind Palace**

* * *

Morning had dawned and Sherlock and Watson were just getting out of the cab. Sherlock walked a few feet, looked around, then started walking towards the lower area of the town they were in.

"Sherlock, why are all the way out in Whitechapel?" Watson asked trying to keep pace with Sherlock.

"We are personally visiting the canonical five crime scenes." Sherlock said without looking back at Watson.

Sherlock turned a corner into the alley and stopped; the first scene. Sherlock walked all around the scene, breathed it in, felt the brick walls and pavement. Then he shut his eyes and delved deep into his mind.

As Sherlock slipped into his thoughts, his mind palace came into focus. All the current information was where he had left it, webbed wall to wall with invisible strings. Then, the walls shifted on their own and Sherlock was once again standing in the alleyway, but the nearby street light was a gas lantern giving the alley an eerie orange glow, and a woman in a very tight dress was walking down the alley. A man came from the other end of the alley, wearing a black trench coat and a gentleman's top hat.

"Excuse me Miss, might we have a few minutes together?" The man asked in a smooth British accent with a kind smile.

"But of course." The woman replied in her very light Irish accent before looping her arm in his.

The couple walked down the alley and Sherlock followed like a ghost. They had only gone a few steps, out of the light from the street lamp, before the man clamped his hand over the woman's mouth and held her against the wall. He then proceeded to have "relations" with her, then when he had redressed them both he produced a knife from his jacket sleeve and slit her throat. As soon as the body had hit the ground, the man sliced open her dress and corset, sliced into her body and removed all he could in three minutes. He then mutilated the lower half of her face. He produced a towel, rinsed it in a nearby running spout, washed his hands and the knife and ran.

Sherlock came back to reality and opened his eyes. He had moved the three meters in reality, his eyes were red and puffy but no tears fell. He rubbed his eyes and turned back to Watson.

"We have four more scenes to visit, not far from here." Sherlock said through deep breaths as he walked out of the alley, the same way the man – the Ripper – had come from.

* * *

Watson followed Sherlock from scene to scene, watching Sherlock's emotional state deteriorate after every trip to his "palace". Finally, after all five scenes had been visited, they headed back to Baker Street where Sherlock slumped down onto his favorite chair and wept into his hands.

"How can anyone be so heinous? So monstrous?" Sherlock asked through sobs.

Watson sat by Sherlock and patted his back, trying to get him to calm down. Mrs. Hudson walked in hearing the noise.

"Oh, I thought it was you…" Mrs. Hudson started before being interrupted by Watson putting his finger to his lips to signal quiet.

"How about some nice tea Mrs. Hudson, and maybe some biscuits?" Watson asked, not in an ordering way but enough to suggest something to comfort Sherlock.

"Oh, of course deary." Mrs. Hudson replied with an apologetic smile.

Watson continued to pat Sherlock on the shoulder and back.

"Don't worry Sherlock, everything's fine now, we're gonna get this guy." Watson said.

Sherlock stopped crying and lifted his head.

"I know we will. Thank you. As soon as we take him down, I must visit his flat. I must bring personal closure to this case." Sherlock said as he wiped away tears.

"Here we are." Mrs. Hudson said as she brought in a tray with hot tea and biscuits on it.

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson." Watson said kindly as Sherlock poured himself a cup.

"Any word on Mary?" Mrs. Hudson asked curiously.

"Not officially, but through Mycroft I have a mutual friend of ours and Her Majesty's on the case. In fact, I think he's visiting the moment she disappeared right now." Watson said.

Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock both looked bewildered, then Sherlock regained his look of knowing.

"Tell him we will meet soon." Sherlock said flatly before pulling himself together and going back to his work with the Ripper case.

* * *

A few hours later, Sherlock, Watson and Molly stood around the autopsy table of victim number four – Victoria Winston. Sherlock turned to look at the other three victims, now just simply being pulled out on their respective freezer shelves. He looked at where victim three, Elizabeth Tyler's, eyes used to be.

"What's your opinion of this man Miss Hooper?" Sherlock asked.

"In scientific terms, he's a complete nutter. I wouldn't want to be even 10 meters from him." Molly replied as she and Watson replaced Elizabeth's blanket.

"Well, that nullifies my next question." Sherlock said as he pushed in the other girl's shelves and closed the doors.

"What was that gonna be?" Molly asked as she removed her gloves.

"What's the best kind of trap?" Sherlock asked looking Molly right in the eyes.

"One with live bait…. Oh no, there is no way…" Molly started to say as she backed up a few steps.

"Molly, it's not my first choice, but it is the logical one. We'd have you bugged and be following you the whole time, we'd intervene before anything could happen." Watson said.

Molly looked from Watson to Sherlock.

"Fine, what do I need to do first?" Molly said as she took off her lab coat revealing a modest burgundy light fabric sweater, khaki pants and brown sneakers.

* * *

Tinkerer stood outside New Scotland Yard in his black coat and gas mask, it was 10:46 at night. He made sure he still had everything he grabbed before leaving the flat, then he walked in the front doors of the building.

Twenty minutes later, he walked back out with George being dragged behind him screaming in pain and the building in chaos.

* * *

END CHAPTER SIX


	7. Set The Trap

**Chapter Seven: Set The Trap**

* * *

The morning after George was taken from Scotland Yard his body was found in a park near the building; no tell-tale bump of drained blood, no restraint marks, no large blood puddle across the scene, George had simply been strangled against a tree, murdered in the park and his body had been left slumped against the base of the tree. No mutilation except for the large gash across his throat.

Sherlock stood in Lestrade's office looking at this floor of the building. Ever desk was turned as a barricade, every computer screen and desk phone had at least two bullet holes in it, Lestrade's office was completely trashed and Lestrade himself was hospitalized with a broken leg, a bullet wound to the shoulder and a knife slash to the left arm. This left Sergeant Sally Donavan to take up the case as Sherlock's police aid.

"I don't care what it takes, I don't care what our past is like, you bring this guy in before I do it myself with deadly force." Donavan said in her best commanding tone.

"What's the matter, Sergeant? Still having affairs?" Sherlock asked as he kneeled on the floor and examined a bloody boot print in the carpet.

"No, I'm not. Lestrade's not married, and neither am I…anymore. But if you must know, Lestrade and I are 'involved'." Donavan replied in a tone that made it clear that the conversation was over.

"Well then, Sergeant, my advice is: don't let your personal relationship color your judgment or your work in general." Sherlock said as he took a picture of the boot print with his phone.

"Another helpful piece of advice would be: don't take a dump where you eat." Philip Anderson, forensic specialist, said as he leaned against the office doorway.

"Excuse me?" Sherlock asked, still somewhat unclear on common social phrases.

"It means don't have a personal relationship where you work, but in my opinion the best would be, 'The heart wants what the heart wants'." Watson said as he went through case notes on his phone.

Everyone looked at Watson for a moment, unsure how to respond to what was just said.

"Oh that's right, Mary." Sherlock said flatly as he went back to work.

"Back to the case; this guy, whoever he is, has a size 10 shoe." Anderson said.

"Anderson, please do shut up. If you would pay attention, we already know that this is Doctor Professor Jackson Bartholomew Tinkerer, and this is a size 11½, wide shoe. Also, the brand name of the shoe is within the print, giving us something to ask local shoe stores about." Sherlock said as he stood up.

"Donavan, are we really going to trust the freak over here?" Anderson asked.

"Yes, we are." Donavan replied before shooing Anderson away, leaving her, Sherlock and Watson alone in the office.

"Don't worry, Sergeant. We're doing all we can, I promise." Watson said.

"I know, otherwise I'd be working this scene and the scene down in the park by myself." Donavan said before walking out of the office.

"Sherlock, what's our next move?" Watson asked.

"We set the trap." Sherlock said before he walked out of the office with Watson behind him.

* * *

At the St. Bartholomew's morgue, Molly looked in a nearby mirror at how Sherlock and Watson had her dressed; green Converse ankle highs, skinny jeans, a red _Star Wars_ shirt, a dark purple windbreaker which had a hidden microphone, her hair in a black ponytail holder and a pair glasses with a small camera hidden in the bridge of the glasses.

"Not bad, not bad at all." Molly said as she turned each way a little to see how it looked from all angles.

"The camera and mic have trackers so we'll have two signals for you in case one disconnects." Watson said.

"What if both disconnect somehow?" Molly asked.

"Unlikely, but just in case I placed trackers in the heels of both of your shoes." Sherlock said.

"Remind me never to ask you for advice on stalkers." Molly said as she did another once over in the mirror.

The group went up and visited Lestrade in his hospital room, relayed the plan to him and got his begrudging approval. They went outside and started walking towards Westminster. Sherlock pulled his iPad Mini out from his satchel, booted it up and synced it with the trackers in Molly's outfit. Once everything was set, Sherlock and Watson used a crosswalk to get to the other side of the street while Molly kept walking ahead.

They were now coming into Westminster and Sherlock watched from the other side of the street as Molly passed the pay phone that Tinkerer used. Sherlock flicked his eyes to the windows of the nearby flat building and on the third floor, one of the window's curtain set was wide open and a camera was trained on Molly, then on Sherlock and Watson.

"Move your hands as we keep up the conversation." Sherlock told Watson as he waved his free hand.

"Why exactly do we have to do this?" Watson asked as he too moved his hands but the pair stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and the foot traffic started moving around them.

"We must make it look like we're having a deep conversation about the case while Tinkerer gets photographs of us and of Molly and has no idea that we know who he is. Stop flicking your eyes to the flat window; yes he's there, but act like you don't notice." Sherlock said, all the while he waved his hands emotionally.

"Alright, what do we do for now if Molly walked ahead?" Watson asked as he took a position that looked like he was thinking through what Sherlock just said.

"She didn't keep going; she noticed the payphone, stopped, pulled out her phone and acted like she was making a call." Sherlock said, lightly slapping the iPad then pointing at Watson.

"Is the signal still strong and untraceable?" Watson asked as he smiled knowingly and put his hands out as if coming to an epiphany.

"A little overkill with the acting, but yes the signal's very strong and I personally engineered it to be untraceable." Sherlock said as he showed Watson the screen, pointed to it then pointed down the street as if the map were for something else.

* * *

Tinkerer watched in the window as Sherlock and Watson continued to talk about whatever. He then focused on the brunette in the purple jacket in front of his flat building. She pulled the phone away from her face, responded to a text message, then headed down the street the way she had come and Sherlock and Watson continued up the street.

It was getting close to 7:48 pm, and traffic on the sidewalks was minimal as it got darker. Now was his chance.

Tinkerer grabbed the gas mask, bag, rope and Lestrade's pistol. He put on his trench coat and headed down the street after the new project. She wasn't far away.

Tinkerer put the gas mask on and ran towards her. He grabbed her, fired the gun into the pavement to clear the path of people then dragged her into the bushes to not be seen. He took her to the flat building, took her upstairs and threw her against the wall knocking her out. He removed her shoes, glasses, jacket and pants leaving everything else underneath still on her, then put her on the table and restrained her. He then waited until she woke.

* * *

END CHAPTER SEVEN


	8. Chapter 8 and Epilogue

**Chapter Eight: You Wouldn't Like Him When He's Mad**

* * *

Sherlock and Watson watched Molly on Sherlock's iPad in the flat building adjacent to Tinkerer's; the camera feed from the glasses was strong, as well as the mic feed and the signal from the trackers. Donavan stood behind Sherlock and Watson, watching as Molly woke up on the table in just her tshirt, socks and underclothes.

"Hello, where am I?" Molly called out in the room as she pulled at the restraints.

"Don't worry my dear, you're perfectly safe." Tinkerer said in his light Scottish as he came into the room in a white lab coat with a leather apron across the front and leather elbow length gloves.

"What are you going to do to me?" Molly asked as Tinkerer pulled out measuring tape and measured different parts of her body.

"Relax, you'll be fine my pretty little friend. You are part of my latest project." Tinkerer said as he wrote down the measurements on a nearby notepad and continued to measure different parts of her.

"Project? What kind of project?" Moly asked in true terror as Tinkerer wrote the final measurements then started searching the wall of knives.

Sherlock stood up and ran outside with the other policemen that were silently positioning themselves inside Tinkerer's building. At the same time, Watson went to the window and aimed the hunting rifle, which had been graciously provided by Donavan's ex-husband, into Tinkerer's window.

"I have been studying the human body and I've noticed that the female system is different than that of the male system. I've been working my hardest to find out why, but sadly all my previous efforts have proved fruitless. Don't worry ma'am, your sacrifice for this project will not be in vain." Tinkerer said as he pulled a kitchen meat knife and a very sharp katana blade off the wall and walked back to the table.

"You mean, you're gonna kill me?" Molly asked as she started to cry.

"Oh dear, I really hoped not to use this." Tinkerer said as he set the blades on the work table and took a facial gag off the other wall and placed it over Molly.

"Forgive me my dear." Tinkerer said as he raised the kitchen knife in a position to slit her throat.

Watson fired right into Tinkerer's left shoulder. Tinkerer screamed in rage and pain and threw the knife like a throwing star out the shattered window. Tinkerer then tried to grab the sword, but Sherlock was already in the room before the policemen, and he had Watson's cane. The blade was out and the sheath was in his off hand, the blade was down over Tinkerer's.

"I wouldn't grab that if I were you." Sherlock said in a commanding tone.

"But you're not me, Holmes." Tinkerer said, almost in a growl as he used his foot to push Molly's table out of the way and pulled the sword out from under Sherlock's blade.

Tinkerer held the sword perfectly and charged Sherlock. Sherlock held up his blade and the cane sheath and blocked Tinkerer's sword, then parried them off and swung the sheath as a club at Tinkerer's legs. Tinkerer jumped over Sherlock's swing and used the nearby worktable as a platform to push off and jump over Sherlock and aim a downward slice. Sherlock raised his blade and parried Tinkerer's perfectly. Sherlock then stood used both the blade and sheath as swords and swung and parried against Tinkerer. Finally, Sherlock landed a stab Tinkerer's left shoulder causing him to scream in pain, drop the katana and fall to the ground.

"Doctor, Professor Jackson Bartholomew Tinkerer, AKA the modern Jack the Ripper: you are under arrest for murder, voluntary man slaughter, chaos and terroristic acts against the great city of London." Sherlock said as the policemen stormed the room, freed Molly and put a blanket around her and put Tinkerer in handcuffs.

Sherlock cleaned off Watson's blade, sheathed it and held it in the crook of his arm as the room cleared again. He closed his eyes and delved into his mind palace. The mind palace showed him all four women murdered and disemboweled, it showed George's escape and it showed the sanity of a once worldly respected man crumble. Sherlock finally opened his eyes to see Watson in the doorway.

"Thank you for the cane, excellent shot, I'll see you in a few hours for our Friday fish and chips session." Sherlock said as he handed Watson his cane walked out of the flat.

As he walked down the street, Sherlock saw a large blue box with a light on the roof suddenly appear in the alleyway where the first Ripper victim had been found. Sherlock pulled out his phone and called Watson to tell him the good news as Mary, battered and bruised but alive, came out the front door before the box disappeared again.

* * *

 **Epilogue: Intro to** _ **The Theory of Angels**_

Two years later, after the court hearing and sentencing, Sherlock walked up to the plate of bullet- and shatter-proof glass that kept him and other visitors away from New Scotland Yard's newest maximum security prisoner, Doctor Professor Jackson Bartholomew Tinkerer – or as the world now knew him – the modern version of Jack the Ripper.

Tinkerer sat on his prison cot and looked up at the glass, straight into Sherlock's eyes. Neither man moved, intensifying the staring game. Then Tinkerer stood up, wincing as his scarred shoulder moved, then slowly walked to the glass and continued to stare into Sherlock's eyes.

"You're not like the rest of them." Tinkerer said in his light Scottish through the microphone/speaker installed in the glass, "You are more clever, you are more resourceful, you are more than them."

"Why did you do it?" Sherlock asked, "Murdering those people who had families, lives, futures."

"Since when do you care about people?" Tinkerer asked, "I've seen your blog and your website. You don't care about people, you only care about cases and the rush of adrenaline you get from proving your superior intellect as the world's only consulting detective."

"You have made me care about people!" Sherlock yelled as he smacked a hand on the glass, "You have made me evolve into a better version of myself and you are the one who has made Sherlock Holmes discover who he can truly become! You have made me more than them, and you are the only reason you are behind this glass!"

"You can't save them all with this new righteousness, you know that right?" Tinkerer called out as Sherlock walked away from the glass.

"I know, but I can still try." Sherlock said as he stopped.

"You won't succeed, not if _Moriarty_ has anything to say about it." Tinkerer said as he sat back down on his cot, "Or _the Doctor_."

"Watson would side with me." Sherlock replied.

"Not him, _the_ Doctor." Tinkerer said, "You know, the one saving the Queen from certain destruction on a bi-weekly basis, running around London as a different man every three years, flying around in a blue box."

"Don't worry about him; I'm already on his trail." Sherlock said as he walked out of the visiting room.

 **THE END…?**


End file.
